Lucy snatched it up and put it in her pack. Lady Angela shrugged her shoulders. " Some innate sense of balance told her that something was wrong with these tales. ‘So yours is the rattling tongue, is it, young madam?’ ‘I should say so. His tone was rough, almost threatening. It is of no use. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. In a few minutes more he had made a breach in the roof wide enough to allow him to pass through.
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